"A song—that's where it all starts. Everything begins from there."
That was Jeremiah's take. Back when Radiance Band recorded "Roar, Hey," they'd faced the same situation. Money was tight, barely enough to scrape by, but they still had to finish the recording. That grit was what led to their big break later on.
Jeremiah's nudge jogged Ronan's memory. The band did have a plan like that once. The cash Trastan had swiped was supposed to fund their next studio session.
Of course, back when Trastan first took over managing the band, they'd already cut an album—small batch, just 300 copies, the minimum for production. They'd printed them to spread the word, handing them out wherever they could.
That stolen money? It was meant for a fresh set of tracks, a whole new album.
Trastan had a plan too, apparently—just one that didn't include the band.
Realizing that, Ronan let out a quiet, wistful sigh.
After drifting off-topic for a moment, Jeremiah steered things back. "If you're ready to hit the studio, Philly's a solid choice."
"Huh?" Ronan blinked, caught off guard.
Jeremiah wasn't bringing up Philadelphia because it was close to D.C. No, it tied into the good news Ronan had just shared: One Day Kings would keep opening for Bruno's final two tour stops!
As of Sunday, Phiz Tantrum was still stuck in Brazil, but things were under control. They'd secured return tickets and, barring any hiccups, would land in New York by Wednesday. With a tight push, they could make Philly's show, and Boston would be no issue at all.
Still, Philly's rehearsal window was razor-thin—just Thursday to prep. Plus, Phiz Tantrum's exhaustion from two weeks of travel chaos couldn't be ignored. It'd been a rough ride for them.
Meanwhile, One Day Kings had crushed it. Their live performances and the buzz afterward earned them cheers and applause. Bruno himself was a huge fan, showering them with praise without holding back.
After weighing it all—and getting a green light from Phiz Tantrum's crew—Bruno decided at last night's party to let One Day Kings handle the opening slots for the last three shows. That meant four more gigs: Philly, then Boston.
That's why Jeremiah mentioned Philly.
But Ronan hadn't connected the dots. "I figured we'd head to New York…" He trailed off, suddenly unsure, worried he'd sound like a clueless newbie. He knew Philly was one of America's oldest cities, home to the Declaration of Independence, but its music scene? That was news to him.
Then again, he was an outsider. His knowledge might be spotty.
Jeremiah chuckled. "Sure, New York's got the best studios in the world—quantity and quality that probably edge out L.A. It's a dream spot for musicians, at least the ones who can't afford their own setup. With a fat enough checkbook, you could build a top-tier studio on the moon."
"Haha, now that's the ultimate dream," Ronan laughed, loud and free.
Jeremiah joined in with a light laugh. "But New York? You know how it is. A coffee costs one price in Jersey, but cross the Hudson and it's four times as much. I don't even dare order a salad there anymore."
His blunt griping sent Ronan into another fit of laughter, loud enough to stir the room's quiet. He caught the sound of Ollie shifting in his sleep and quickly hushed himself, though the giggles still rumbled in his throat.
"Studios are the same deal. Three hundred bucks an hour gets you a decent, average spot in New York. In Philly, though? Same money rents you a setup twice as good—or double the time in a place just as solid."
"Ronan, it's two different worlds. Two!" Jeremiah repeated for emphasis. "Back in the day, we went from Jersey to New York, then Denver, for that exact reason. New York's great, but it's out of our league. Philly feels right for you guys."
Ronan thought back to Radiance Band's journey. The two bands definitely shared some common ground. "Got it. I'll talk it over with the team."
Before he could even ask, Jeremiah jumped in. "I'll check with my manager, have him put together a list of solid studios, and email it to you."
"Thanks," Ronan said, genuinely grateful.
"Ha! Don't forget me when you hit it big overnight. Maybe throw us a bone—like letting us open for you or something," Jeremiah quipped, his humor sparking another laugh from Ronan. The call ended on that easy, cheerful note.
Curled up on the couch, Ronan let his mind go blank for a bit, watching the sunlight creep across the balcony, claiming more space inch by inch. He kept scooting back until there was nowhere left to go. Then the light washed over his toes, his feet, his ankles—like sitting on a beach, watching the tide roll in.
When it reached his calves, he finally hopped off the couch, tiptoeing across the warm floor back to the room.
Ollie was still out cold. If not for the steady, heavy breathing, Ronan might've wondered if he'd slipped into a coma.
Quietly settling at his own spot, Ronan flipped open his laptop and started digging into Philly. That's when he realized how little he knew.
Philadelphia wasn't just North America's oldest city—it was a "music capital" too. Its classical scene was world-class. The Philadelphia Orchestra, founded in 1900, was one of America's top five and among the world's ten best modern orchestras.
Beyond classical, Philly had a musical soul as rich and deep as New Orleans'.
(End of Chapter)